


untitled no 6

by tealmoon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Femdom, Knifeplay, Lingerie, Masturbation, Metafiction, Multi, Oral Sex, Painful Sex, Power Imbalance, Purple Prose, Self-Hatred, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/tealmoon
Summary: ”And then, as the king watches, bright-eyed and shamelessly palming at his manhood, the beautiful scientist crosses the courtyard and climbs up into his lap......"(The fantasy only lasts for so long, but she'll cling to it anyway.)





	untitled no 6

_She savors the slow walk through the castle, the gray corridors completely empty. Although she must act upon the will of the King, the scientist can take her time with this approach. She can make her subjects squirm with anticipation, wondering when she’ll arrive. Knowing that there is no one to see her in that moment, she disrobes, the chill air welcome to her heated scales._

_And she enters the room. All eyes fall on her as she strides forward into the throne room, surveying the situation she has orchestrated._

_Let them watch! The beautiful scientist knows there are new recruits in the Guard lining the walls of the throne room, trying to maintain their composure as they watch the proceedings, staying as still as possible. As she unravels the whip in her hand, her gaze rakes over them, looking for one that was perhaps breathing a little more audibly, or shifting on their feet, or clinging too tightly to a weapon. All of them knew of the mysterious Royal Scientist, but fewer had earned the privilege of seeing her, and rarer still were those who earned a touch._

_Perhaps they envy the two Guards in front of them. Perhaps they are nervous, both jealous that they haven’t earned more than this voyeurism but wary of it at the same time. At a gesture, the Captain, usually proud but now silent and kneeling, removes her helmet, tossing her long red hair. Her cerulean skin is already flushed as she reaches down to unbuckle her armor._

_“Wait.” Both of them look up at her, their expressions drenched in unconcealed longing. “Undress each other.” Although they are seasoned, scarred warriors, their hands tremble. She stands, and he begins to work. With her rank, it is obvious that the Captain should be unarmored first, each piece carefully stacked on the floor with the respect it deserves. Her subordinate pauses at the padding underneath, but at the scientist’s nod, he begins to remove that as well. Soon the Captain is almost completely bared in only utilitarian but somehow beautiful undergarments._

_Perhaps, someday, the scientist would have the scarred, proud Captain in the finest lace. She would find it degrading, perhaps, and so the scientist hadn’t insisted that she wear anything otherwise for her public defiling. After all, she has another subject to devote that longing to._

_The Captain reaches out, briefly touching the cheek of her second in command. He is somewhat of a new recruit, but brilliant and quick enough to overthrow anyone in his way, all except for her. He has achieved in six months what lesser guards are unable to do in two years. The Lieutenant is a tall and thin skeleton, and his pride drew him to wear lighter armor than the Captain. The Captain didn’t have to remove a thing for them to all see a delicate stretch of spine, a hint of pelvis if someone was standing over him and looked down._

_As the Captain removes his armor, the leather and the metal plating, soon his own undergarments come into view. While the Captain is practical and the Scientist appears almost raw, flush with a dangerous sensuality, the Lieutenant looks delicate in comparison. He wears a filmy black camisole, his ribs faintly visible through it, and when his ostentatious heels and tight leather pants are stripped away, a pair of small panties in the same material—_

Wait. Alphys paused, flexing her clawed hands to give them a break after all that typing. Was it a camisole or a chemise? Were those the same thing? Maybe she could take a minute to research without losing her focus.

...Twenty minutes into looking at pictures of lingerie (or rather, pictures of monsters in lingerie) on a seedier section of the UnderNet, she decided it’d be a camisole. Which soon ran into another problem, as she opened a picture of Papyrus. They were friends online, and he did post a lot of selfies, so she tried not to feel too creepy as she studied it. It was Papyrus arm-in-arm with Undyne, the two of them taking a post-battle selfie together over a pile of dust.

She had been writing things with his actual uniform in mind, but if story-Papyrus had been wearing lingerie underneath, wouldn’t it be visible immediately? It’d take all the surprise out. Too bad; the cocky, bone-bearing aspect of his armor was just so cool, but...she’d have to go back and change it so it was more covering. She made a note in all capitals so she wouldn’t forget, trying to dive back into it.

_—a pair of small panties in the same material are stretched across his pelvis. The bones of his pelvis and hips are beautifully unmarked, and the scientist thrills with the realization that she might be the first one to defile that part of him._

_And now, with the Lieutenant waiting in the flowers for her attentions to fall on him once more, his knees spread in a tempting way, the Captain turns to her. Superiority ruled, of course, and she has to set an example. Even in an hour of weakness, she has to show her fortitude. It wouldn’t do to have any of these less guards disrespecting her, especially the ones who know what is just about to happen._

_She walks over the scientist, her chin held high, sharing a look for a heady moment. She is so beautiful, her hair fanned over her squared, strong shoulders, her singular eye full of fire. And then, the Captain did one of the few things a sane monster would never perform. In a smooth motion, she turned her back and dropped to her knees among the flowers._

_For a minute, she merely looks at the defined muscles in the Captain’s back, the scarred blue scales. What a privilege, to take such a woman apart. What a miracle._

_She looks over the Captain’s head and over to the throne. Almost imperceptibly, a roguish smirk on his lips, the King of All Monsters nods his head. It is through his permission alone that all of this can occur. If their master asked for it, ordered it, none of them would ever be touched again. His gaze is enough to dampen the cleft between her legs, though she didn’t betray it through her stance, longing to squeeze her legs together but knowing it wasn’t time. Not yet._

_The beautiful scientist raises her arm up and brings the whip down with a crack. What is first a test blow, endured with barely deepened breath, soon becomes harder strikes, sending wisps of dust and splatters of blood into the air, sparkling and lovely, like everything else about the Captain. Soon her back is torn open, and she has to brace herself up with her hands, moaning and gasping with each strike._

_It ends too soon, twenty lashes—_ was twenty enough? too much?— _and the Captain slumps over her bent knees, her ravaged back visible to all of them. “Thank you,” she murmurs to the ground. “Thank you, thank you, thank you...”_

_The Captain is left to recover from her beautiful agony, as the scientist snaps her fingers deftly. The beautiful skeleton guard comes to stand before her, the red light in his eye sockets appraising her. With an elegant bow, he follows in suit of his superior, turning and kneeling so that the straight column of his spine faces her, underneath that camisole._

_It would be a pity to destroy it, however. She circles him once, twice, and then comes to a decision. “Remove that.” No please, no room for argument. And, of course, he obeys. The camisole is carefully discarded, set away where the blood and dust won’t reach it, leaving only bone and tiny panties, before he returns to his previous position. Waiting for her to unmake him, like a good little guard._

_A whip wouldn’t do, for this one. Without flesh to protect him, who knew what sort of damage it might do to those bones, so strangely fragile in this moment. As this is their first dalliance, she doesn’t know the limits of his body yet, and she wants such a beautiful monster to survive for another encounter. She coils the whip up carefully, letting him anticipate what could occur next. None of them, save for the King, know the breadth of her toy chest; she could inflict any number of exquisite tortures on these two. The whip is an elegant tool, but for this one..._

Her alarm went off, and she jabbed at her phone to shut it up. To be honest, she didn’t really mind for once. She hadn’t decided this far ahead after realizing that a whip strike could snap off a rib, couldn’t it? Alphys shuffled towards the elevator, turning ideas over.

Branding was probably out, since it needed props. She could’ve included fire magic for that, but getting the king character involved too soon would be annoying. Though, maybe at the end...

  
Electricity was out too. It was within the character’s magic capabilities, but she wasn’t in the mood. The elevator came to a halt in the lower section of the lab, and she snagged a food bag that was leaning against the wall.

“Gimme a sec, fuck, I’m not late or anything,” Alphys muttered, waving away a cloud of white butterflies that started to swarm around her. Luckily these days they didn’t bite at her, knowing better. She filled up the various bowls around the lab with dog food. Most of them weren’t around, save for the butterfly Amalgamate, but she should have known better to think she was in the clear.

When she went to go fill Lemon Bread’s food bowl (it would’ve been easier to group them, but _no_ , these guys had to demand privacy in their weird cryptic way, Lemon Bread chanting WELCOME TO MY SPECIAL HELL if they had to eat in eyesight (?) of Reaper Bird), she was bowled over by a wave of white, flickering from solid to liquid and back again.

Endogeny didn’t weigh anything in the traditional sense, but shoving did nothing as it settled down on Alphys’s chest, making those weird echoing yips. She didn’t have a stick, after it had consumed the last one, so she could only pet and hope it’d be satisfied without attacking her.

Really, it wasn’t that different than brainstorming upstairs, but she would have rather been thinking about smut in a nice chair with a soda, not being dripped on by a multitude of dogs, her hands going numb with each pet.

Would a flogger do less damage to bone than a whip? She had to think of something that wouldn’t be completely disfiguring, not if the next parts could make any sense at all. Hitting with a bare hand would be boring at best, if not totally impractical—yeah, just slap bone with your hand, let’s see who’d come out on top. Needles were out, since she had no idea if they would penetrate.

With one final pet, her arms feeling like floppy rubber tubes, Endogeny slithered off of her and down into a metal grate in the floor, its body contracting with a gurgling bark. _Dogs_ , so fucking weird. She left it some food anyway.

Knives, she decided. Carving into the bones with knives. Great thing that the feeling in her hands was barely coming back after the walk back to the elevator. It just figured that the second she got a good idea, she could barely hit the elevator buttons, so typing was probably a lost cause for at least ten minutes.

Ten minutes became twenty. She tried to distract herself, but her hands twitched and nearly dropped a thankfully lidded soda at least twice, and actually dropped her phone three times, though luckily it was a sturdy build.

The moment she could properly ball her fists without a struggle, she dived back into it. Maybe there would be some typos, but whatever, Future Alphys could deal with that, the bitch. No point in letting inspiration run away without her.

_The scientist retrieves from her inventory a single, wickedly bladed knife. Its edge glows in the light, woven with engravings of flowers and vines, the handle laced with gold. A beautiful knife for a beautiful victim, carefully sharpened._

_She draws the flat of it down his spine. No doubt it is deliciously cold, and his faint gasp pleases her. What part of him deserves attention first? It would only be right to give him the same amount of attention that the Captain had received. Twenty cuts for twenty lashes, and she knew just how many she would need for her desires._

_But first... With a flick of her wrist, the very tip of the knife digs into his left shoulder blade, a kiss that left the smallest trickle of—_

Um. Did skeletons bleed? They didn’t have flesh, obviously, but cutting someone without an accompanying liquid kind of ruined the aesthetic. She could have argued it was bone marrow, but that really wasn’t a liquid, was it? Even with a good friend, that wasn’t the sort of thing you could ask someone without them thinking you had a murder plot in mind. Bone marrow did technically have blood in it, right?

Ugh, whatever, it’d look cool if there was blood.

_—the smallest trickle of blood, dripping off of him and onto the floor below. As much as she wants to give into frenzy, to carve immense gashes into him, she takes more care than that, counting each of her cuts. Some of them little pinpricks, others long stretches. He’s a mess of blood now, breathing heavily. She moves around him, looking at different angles, and she can see how undone he has become, spinning off into some land of agonizing, novel pleasure._

_Only when she has exhausted most of her lines does she move back behind him. His right shoulder blade had avoided the knife, but now she goes to work. From his position on the throne, it’s unlikely that the King can see what she’s doing, but he nods in approval, understanding at once._

_These cuts are far deeper, intended to scar. She presses her weight into the knife, panting a little from exertion and a lot from ardor. Slowly, the shape develops, a Delta Rune carved into his bone, perfect and bloody. A counterpart to the branded Delta Rune on his Captain’s front, a gorgeous blackened mark on the swell of her right breast. One of the first times the scientist had been able to touch her._

_He’s so obedient as the mark starts to take form. He squirms with ecstasy, but only with his hands, clawing at the ground while the rest of his body stays still for her. She makes a mental note to kiss him more for it later on; his first encounter with her is going so well._

_The final cut comes too soon. She carefully cleans the knife before she returned it to the sheath, pausing briefly to coax a drop of blood off the edge to raise up to her mouth. He tastes wonderfully, of course._

_The scientist steps past the pair of bloodied guards. It’s something of a formality, at this point. She knows the King’s desires often better than her own, and she can tell from his ravenous gaze that he wants more, more, as much as she can tear out of the two of them. The way forward is clear, pleasure following pain._

_“The two of you,” she says, her voice strong and calm, not betraying any of her lust. “You may kiss.”_

_The scientist imagines that, between skeletons, a kiss could be chaste, a brush of teeth together. As someone possessing of flesh, she doesn’t know if that could be pleasurable or not. Hard teeth against teeth? Luckily, that thought of chastity is quickly done away with._

_Reaching up one strong hand, the Captain hooks it around his skull, pulling him into her. No doubt emboldened by her movement, he parts his jaw, letting forth a glowing, magically formed tongue. The Captain replies in turn with her own, and within seconds, their kiss is as debauched and messy as the scientist could have ever hoped for. Her arms wrap around his narrower form, and soon the Captain topples him into the flowers, climbing on top of his form. Perhaps it isn’t comfortable to lie on bone, but she seems to be enjoying herself, adorning both of them in the blood still sluggishly oozing from their injuries._

_She would have been content to watch them at it, for as long as they wanted to kiss and fondle and bite each other. However, their audience has his whims, and she would not disobey. The look he gives her, smoldering with want, is clear enough._

_“Wait.”_

_Both of them sit up, their hands carefully placed so she would know of their obedience, though they must want so deeply to continue. If the King wanted it, he could have had both of them languish, unfulfilled in their desire. Was this merciful?_

_“Oh, dear Captain. Please begin to heal yourself and your inferior. You will stop the moment I tell you to do so.” She nods and reaches out with both hands, starting to glow with verdant energy: one placed on his knee, the other on her own chest. The scientist counts off in her head, watching their injuries fading, their HP slowly rising—_

_“Stop, now.” It is barely enough to stabilize them without erasing the marks they have endured. There will still be pain, but hopefully faded enough that they can turn towards more...rigorous activity without harming their condition too much. Any undue pressure would no doubt open those wounds again, and she almost wants that, to see them painted in their own blood, but it wouldn’t do to injure them so deeply that they can’t return to work. “And, Lieutenant, please clothe yourself again.”_

_She couldn’t help herself with that order. Hopefully he would be able to remove the bloodstains on his own time, as he looks simply too precious with it on to abandon the camisole to the dirt. It almost immediately clings to his bloodied bones, and he looks more beautiful than ever._

_Her focus falls on him, and she does a slow walk around the two of them, surveying his form. “Have you created something beautiful for us? Please, arrange yourself so that we can see.”_

_He pulls away from the Captain, kneeling up so that his body is clearly visible. Through the translucent fabric of his panties, there is a throbbing red energy, already leaving slickness—_

At least she knew how this part could go.

That had been a weird drunken conversation, and she sincerely doubted Sans knew that she would be using that information for something like this, years after the fact. They had been fucked up enough that he had pulled down his shorts right there on the couch (“Sans, that’s gross, I don’t want your grimy tailbone on my couch!” “Like you ever clean this thing anyway, think I’ve got a bit of corn chip wedged in my sacrum...”). With that many drinks, it had been a struggle for him to form his magic, but eventually he showed her both a dick and a pussy in turn, both made of bright, shimmery red energy.

Awkward, yes, but not that awkward considering the other things they had done in the past, before Alphys had become a practical hermit. He had seen her cloaca, anyway, so they were pretty equal.

But which set of genitals, if they could have any combination? A dick would be aesthetically neat, an erection pressing against such pretty lingerie. On the other hand, she probably didn’t need more than one dick in the scene—the King character had more than enough in that department. Tentacles, maybe? Pure bone would be difficult to work with.

Sighing, she fumbled for a gold coin, flipped it, and then put her hands back to the keyboard.

_Even through his panties, she can tell what an adorable pussy he has created for them all to see. The scientist kneels beside them, hooking a clawed finger in the waistband and tugging as if to slip them down his femurs. “How lovely,” she breaths and then pulls hard, claws shredding them off his pelvis. Such a successful, talented guard would definitely earn enough gold to buy all the lace and frills he could stand, and she has the feeling the King might send a few gifts of his own. The destruction of a single pair means nothing._

_With the panties thoroughly destroyed, there is nothing to cover him, the camisole’s hem not stretching low enough to give even a modicum of modesty. “You may proceed,” the scientist said, standing back to let them continue._

_The Lieutenant only tolerates his Captain’s state of dress for a few minutes, as she grinds her clothed pelvis against his own. If the feeling of scales against bone is uncomfortable, neither of them betray it, rocking and pressing against each other. But then he’s tearing off her own undergarments, tossing them to the side and moving with more vigor._

_A view of the Captain’s most sensitive areas is a rare treat. Often in these debasements, she would be undone with a hand or a toy pressed inside her underwear, or on rare occasion it might be shoved to one side for easy access. For her to be completely bare, even for a moment before the Lieutenant was once again pressed against her, well. It’s almost miraculous, and the scientist longs to touch herself, to bring her body to bliss seeing those tantalizing glimpses of teal against cherry._

_After the knives and the kissing, the Lieutenant is clearly close to the edge, and the grinding topples him over. His knees shake, and she pins him down easily, looking up at the scientist. At a nod, all it would take, the Captain would keep going, would drive him into painful, exquisite overstimulation. She could destroy him utterly._

_She looks to the King for guidance, and he finally speaks, his voice a benediction. “You’ve been very patient. I believe it’s time for your turn, my beloved scientist.”_

_She gestures the Captain forward. The Lieutenant is left to lay in the flowers, to watch and compose himself in anticipation of more. Teasingly, she runs her hands across her lingerie, which will definitely leave this encounter intact, unlike theirs. As multiple gazes fall on her, she cups her heavy breasts through her bra, squeezing briefly. Will they have chance for pleasure?_

_“On your back, Captain,” she orders in a powerful voice as she takes measured steps forward. She unclips her garters and eases down her own panties, delighting in the anticipation in the woman’s eyes as she looks up at her. Slowly, her intent probably very obvious, she walks over the Captain’s body and finally, finally! She kneels down, her moist flower suspended over her mouth. She’s still, waiting for the command..._

_“You may begin.”_

It was getting intense now, and Alphys flapped her hands in the air, palms sweating. How many times had she written a proxy Undyne, yet she was still acting like a teenager with a crush and a shitty vibrator? Shouldn’t she be jaded by it now?

She pushed her chair away from her desk, rolling over to the fridge. Maybe a break would be in order; she had forgotten about dinner, after all, too caught up with the muse or something. Old pizza, maybe too old. Enough ingredients for a lazy sandwich. Uh, cheese sticks and ice cream? She really needed to make a grocery order one of these days.

Soda and instant noodles it was. As the water heated, she tapped her claws on the counter. If Undyne—no, if the _Captain_ was eating out the Scientist, what were the King and Lieutenant doing? There was only so much disheveled panting the latter could do in the grass before it was boring. Maybe he could touch himself or service the King somehow? It’d be kind of negligent to leave the royal boner unattended.

See, Papyrus was a new introduction to the stories. He would have gone under the radar as Undyne’s friend and nothing else, definitely not a target of sexual desire, if it hadn’t been for his online presence. Between Sans’s awkward lectures on skeleton intimacy and Papyrus’s various selfies, some of them more risque than others, Alphys had...well, maybe not a torch for him, but at least a candle. His fictional self was easy to mash up against Undyne’s, and it was better than fictional-Undyne savaging a faceless rookie guard or a criminal.

With the soda, she had the feeling she’d be up all night, and with that maybe a chance to finish this mess. Editing could wait until another day, if she could make herself look at it later or even open the file.

_As the scientist rides the Captain’s mouth, ever so careful of her fangs aside from tiny, deliberate nips, the Lieutenant soon stirs. She can hardly contain her joy at ‘dinner and a show,’ as it were. He crawls over to the throne on his knees, his beautiful tall body prostrated towards the King. He rests his skull on his boot, licking the leather there._

_“You may proceed, my loyal Guard.” He raises himself up, hands trailing up his legs, slow but not teasing. Almost none may dare tease the King or deny him his carnal right, after all. Those clever skeletal hands pluck at the King’s breeches, seeking the treasure inside._

Wait. Was she really in the mood for that? She could have the skeleton suck him off, but... Alphys wasn’t sure how well skulls suited towards oral. She’d seen Sans eat enough that there had to be some sort of throat there, even if it wasn’t visible. She could make some stuff up, right? Fake it ‘til you make it, and all that.

_He cupped the King’s tumescent manhood, drawing it from his clothing where it strained into the air, powerful and enormous. The reverence must have been making him impatient, because he pulls the Lieutenant forward, forcing his length in between his teeth. The slick sounds of his thrusts become a wonderful counterpoint to the Captain’s damp tongue between her legs, thoroughly mapping out the whole of her cloaca, both inside and out, until both of them are drenched._

_It is hard to see from her position, but there is another glow of red energy forming from him, underneath his jaw. Perhaps, if she had been closer, she would have seen the King’s rod pressing down a conjured throat, even straining against its shape? Despite the force of the King’s movements, the Lieutenant is flushed, palming at himself with abandon._

_With a gasp, she falls into completion, pressing down hard enough that the Captain must have struggled to breathe, dripping with her emissions. Rather than resting there, she pulls herself up on shaky legs, swatting at the Captain’s cheek when she dared to give a parting nip to one yellowed, lush thigh, a moment away from breaking through her scales._

_Such a wonderful, impertinent toy she is. “Touch yourself however much you wish or rest. You’ve done admirably, our beloved warrior.” As she stands and approaches, the King comes to completion. She can now see his pearlescent fluids splatter the inside of that translucent throat, soon disappearing as the Lieutenant eagerly swallows it. “You as well. You’ve done excellently for your first game with us.”_

_“Hopefully the first of many,” the King rumbles. As the Lieutenant took his place beside his superior, the two of them so debauched that they merely hold each other and breathe in the scent of the flowers, the Scientist approaches her dear King. He reaches out to lift her slight body, helping her straddle his knees. Already he’s growing hard again, his body vital enough for seemingly endless encounters._

_“Finally,” he breathes, putting an enormous hand around her rear to usher her closer. “My brightest, most loyal, most beautiful servant of all. The dessert to this wonderful meal you have given me.”_

_With a tiny gasp, one hand bracing herself while the other spread her open, she lowers down, her entrance brushing him in the faintest tease. She alone could be so bold, and only for a moment before she plunges down, taking his pulsing length into her._

_It is perhaps the only masochism she ever engages in. Her pulse quickens to torment, to wound others, but now she is the one wailing in glorious pain. He is, after all, very large in all ways, and his most obedient servant is a small creature, whose cleft can just barely accommodate some of his shaft. If she fingered and prepared and used all manner of toys, then it was easier, and she could almost take him to the hilt, but... But this feeling is just so exquisite, a glorious ache as she takes another inch inside her...then another...._

It was at about that point that Alphys gave up typing completely, one hand at her chest while the other reached between her legs. Yeah, she could have gone with a badly-shot porn video and a sex toy to get herself worked up, but this was more creative.

No fancy lace lingerie for real-life Alphys, she remembered with a grimace, the fantasy evaporating. There had been no point in changing out of her sleep clothes that whole day, not really, so she was wearing what she had rolled out of bed in, an unwashed t-shirt emblazoned with a faded logo for a human brand and a tattered pair of incredibly unsexy underwear. No pants, nothing on her feet. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her crotch, but that wasn’t really much in terms of modesty.

There _was_ lingerie in the Underground, obviously, there had to be from the raunchy photos from her research, and fuck, she’d be able to afford it, which most people probably couldn’t say. Even the expensive, good quality stuff made by Muffet. But Muffet’s lingerie side business didn’t have online ordering. Part of the supposed high quality nature of it involved personal fittings, so “each customer could have the ideal lingerie experience,” as if that wasn’t the most bullshit nonsense she could think of. In-person purchases only.

Alphys knew that maybe, just maybe, with enough gold, she’d be able to work out a deal with Muffet to send her measurements and have something delivered. But then Muffet would _know_ , and so would whoever she sent to deliver it. Why would the Royal Scientist need lace or silk when she never left the lab and almost no one ever came in? Muffet would sell the gossip too, and everyone would know how pathetic Alphys was, dressing up for no one.

That thought was almost enough to drive her hands away from her body, clenching uselessly on empty air. Not for the first time, she was struck with just how _gross_ she was. Would Undyne ever want to look at her, if she knew this was all Alphys had gotten up to all day, moaning over a cardboard cutout of her? Would Sans still want to be her friend, if he knew that she was lusting over his brother and using their online friendship as fap material? (Never mind the things she had written about a thinly veiled version of Sans himself...) And Asgore, forget about him—she didn’t want to know how her boss would react.

Her thigh burned as her claws dug in. She was horrible and filthy, her other hand straying back down. All the doors were locked and guarded, but Undyne might be strong enough to break in if she really wanted to. And Alphys would shut off the security traps, not wanting to hurt her even if it meant debasing herself in front of such a wonderful monster.

Unlike her fantasy self, it took just one finger before her cloaca started to burn. No enormous Boss Monster dicks for her, and not even a whole finger, though she tried to push further. No matter how wet she was, which was a considerable amount, nothing made it easier. It was just another way for Royal Scientist Alphys to be a complete failure. And, completely false to what porn said, no amount of forcing could get another finger in.

She settled for the one, her claw pricking inside of her. The point wasn’t to feel good, and she jammed her hand as far as she could, whimpering and feeling teardrops well in her eyes. In her wavering fantasy, she imagined Undyne jeering at her, maybe even taking a photo to post online, so that everyone would know her shame. If Alphys couldn’t do this, then why could she expect anything from Undyne? She was a weakling, pathetic. What, would she cry if someone dared to bite her? Beg to stop one spank in? She’d be a terrible excuse for a lover, not worthy to be spat on...

And then her computer, forgotten by that point, gave the little ding that she had set up to signal Undyne messaging her. Alphys looked up with bleary eyes. Of all the times for Undyne to come online... Alphys couldn’t tell if she was relieved or bothered by it, but at least the nervousness was familiar. She worked her finger out with a painful jerk and wiped it on a tissue before she reached for her mouse. Gross, probably, but it wasn’t like anyone else was using it. She could disinfect everything in a fit of self-disgust later.

Undyne was online, right now. She had no idea what sort of a perversion she was courting, with that simple hello. She even used a little smiley and everything, as if Alphys deserved it.

But it’d be even worse to ignore her, when Undyne had done nothing to be frozen out. Alphys _always_ answered her, usually minutes after getting the message, to the point that Undyne joked that she must have been a light sleeper to always answer at ridiculous times of night. (She let Undyne believe that, clinging to the image of being a respectable monster that kept a normal schedule. It was hardly the worst lie she had ever told, even in the last week.)

 _hi undyne!!_ (She backspaced out a bunch of extra exclamation points.) _did you kill anyone today?_ It was possible she sounded too eager, but making Undyne wait would have been rude. Hopefully she wouldn’t want to video chat, because Alphys was a complete mess. Not that she almost ever agreed to it anyway, but turning Undyne down would make her feel worse.

She squeezed together her legs as they settled into an easy rhythm of typing, rocking back and forth. Just from talking, a damp spot was starting to spread across the whole crotch of her panties, until it wasn’t really a spot as much as _all_ of it. Pinching herself on the thigh a few times made the tingles fade out a little bit, but just talking to Undyne brought them back in seconds. She really was a disgusting excuse for a monster.

Maybe, in her next work, the Scientist needed to be punished for once.

**Author's Note:**

> Is this the first time that pairing tag has been used? ...I feel like I should apologize for this or something.
> 
> (Also those tags are a mess, but for some reason, I've tried to edit them several times and can't get them in order, what's with that?)


End file.
